Arcane Divide
by Boneface
Summary: Three friends set off in different directions, discovering the reality of life outside of their once comfortable home of Maple Island. Their paths will cross again, the three of them enlightened, accustomed, happy...and threatened.
1. Prologue: Rebirth

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><p><strong><em>Arcane Divide<br>_**by Boneface/Chrome

The night dragged on in the jungle basin, the musty swamp air radiating warmly as it tended to do. This region of the planet was exceptionally humid, being situated so far away from the mountainous mainland. The Krakian basin, located in the heart of the island's badlands, was indeed home to its own strange species of monsters, developing in a manner rather unorthodox compared to their cousins elsewhere on the planet.

It was, so to speak, a pure land. No human or elf ever made permanent residence here; it was too…strange. And too far away. But tonight, the island had been seeing to a visit from a group of people hailing from the continent of Victoria—armymen. Obviously they weren't here for nothing.

Lucien Renegat, a stern practitioner of the arcane and holy arts, situated himself away from the rest of his regiment. He was concentrating on one thing and one thing only: The diamond that he held directly in front of him. Beads of sweat sapped down the back of his neck and along his face, a result of both the overbearing humidity and the task before him.

Slowly, the diamond, pure and translucent as it was originally, began to cloud with gray, then black. Lucien smirked in satisfaction as the synthesis took place. As he finished, he rolled the newly formed black crystal around in his palms, eyeing it meanly.

It was just a simple alchemic process, transfusing energy from the environment into a jewel, but doing so with dark energy in its pure form was taxing, both physically and mentally, and thus only experienced alchemists could do such a thing without straining themselves to the point of injury.

Eagerly and with a sense of exhilaration, Lucien produced his weapon from its holster at his waist—a staff, made of an adamantium rod and adorned with an arcane crystal at its head which allowed for magic to be channeled through it. This staff, which was quite a common model among Mages like Lucien, was darkly unique—on its butt end was a receiving vessel with five glowing jewels, not unlike the one Lucien had just produced, inserted and fastened into notches.

Lucien inserted his black crystal into the last available slot and, with a low murmur, chanted an arcane spell to channel the jewels' magic into the staff's head. Slowly, like what had just taken place earlier, the otherwise vivid orange crystal clouded with black, while at the same time the six jewels at the bottom of the staff began to dull. Once the process was complete, the jewels became useless, nothing more than drained vessels. Lucien discarded them and, eagerly, wandered deeper into the wilderness.

He didn't want to arouse suspicion, so he made his journey quick and to the point—he wanted to see if his efforts were worth the trouble. The Priest eyed a creature not too far from where he stood—a gross, miscolored rendition of the common Slime. It would have to do for now.

As the monster slithered around, probably searching for food, Lucien channeled his magic through his staff, preparing a low-level spell. His gaze lay square on his unaware yellow target; smoothly, he brought his staff up and pointed the black crystal towards the Slime. He let loose what would normally be a simple bolt of energy, but, astonishingly, what his staff produced was a far ascended thing. His arm jerked back by the recoil of his spell, Lucien watched in merriment as a sapphire blue missile collapsed into the Slime and detonated, spewing the remains of the slippery creature on the surrounding bushes. The spot where the spell hit hissed slightly, an acrid gray vapor shimmying from a scorch mark in the ground.

Satisfied, Lucien Renegat ventured deeper into the jungle, an acid grin wide across his face.


	2. Reward

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><p>I couldn't believe it.<p>

I ran my thumb across the face of the medal that I now held in my hand, admiring its every detail. It certainly was a beautiful craft of metalwork; the image of a shortsword lay finely chiseled in the center of the medal, a red-orange maple leaf adorning the background. My eyes caught sight of a series of concavities that lined its lower end—an engraving. "Adventurer," it read.

My grin must have been more radiant than the sun, which reflected its rays off the gleaming silver of the little shield. Finally, I thought, I'd achieved something great. I could be the Bowman I'd always wanted to be. Standing here, in the middle of a weather-beaten field, I'd received all that I could ever wish for.

…okay, maybe not.

My name is Raff, sixteen years old. Today, after what I could describe as forever, I finally became a certified Adventurer. I don't exactly have a profession yet, but my heart's been set on becoming a Bowman ever since I was old enough to read; actually, even before that. I'd always heard of them in stories the elders back at the orphanage used to tell us. They downed great dragons with a single arrow and scoured the corners of the world to hunt down bad guys. Who wouldn't want to do that?

Today's not just a special day for me, though. Out of the forty-odd guys taking their promotion tests to become Adventurers, I know two other people who got their medals today, too. After today's over, my friend Phoenix, my brother Lucien, and I are gonna be out by the port, boarding a ship to Victoria Island…I never thought I'd see the day.

Back to reality now.

I found out less-than-gently that standing idly in a crowd of people wasn't the best thing to be doing, especially when there were forty-odd aspiring Adventurers, and then some, wrestling to get a better look at the testing.

Avoiding further injury, I walked out of the crowd's way, sliding my medal onto my neck and wearing it proudly as I did so. I figured it wouldn't do me much good to stick around and watch people fight Mushrooms, so I started making my way back to training camp.

That feeling of awe never left me while I was strolling back to my bunk. I noticed flowers glowing vividly, standing out amidst a sea of green grass, scattered about the trail that I took. The sun was beating down warmly in midafternoon, summer taking its toll on this tiny Maple Island. A breeze whisked past while I was walking, carrying a subtle essence of the sea in its trail. You were never too far from the ocean here, the tiny sweep of land that Maple Island was; I was always grateful for that.

Soon enough, after a few minutes of blissfully prancing down the little trail, I eyed the wooden gates that marked the entrance of the training camp where I'd been living for the past three years. "Novice Academy" arched over and across the gates, inscribed in big bold letters on a wooden sign.

I walked past the gates and a bit further down the trail until I reached a big, unpainted wooden lodge—my bunk. I slid the door open, the grin I'd been wearing for the past ten minutes still tacked to my face.

I heard a grating _creeeeak, thud_ from the old door as it wobbled its way open—a little oiling on those bearings wouldn't hurt. A few loose snores droning from some chance sleepy mouths snailed their way around the lodge as I entered, those sounds fading under the murmur of odd chatter. I was met with a glance or two, but for the most part everyone in the lodge was content to remain occupied with their own devices. Not typical of a rowdy house of senior Novices, but on advancement day, things were a bit blither, if that's saying much.

"…what? That's five in a row," said a familiar voice in a far corner of the room.  
>"You put down two Slimes. I ain't stupid, man."<br>"I let you get double-threes at least four ti—oh hey, Raff's back".

Two familiar faces, just a moment ago intently locked in a fierce duel of Omok, turned to see me as I approached them; both of those faces lit up instantaneously as they eyed the piece of silver suspended from my neck. I noticed identical medals resting on both of their chests.

"Three for three, and we're outta here," said Phoenix eagerly as we slapped hands. "Now your brother can shut up about you not passing."  
>"Did you really expect me to fail? And you, I heard you wussed out and ran to the back of the line twice before you actually took it Lucien," I said as I ruffled my brother's hair, shaking off the dregs of dirt that stuck to my hand. This place didn't have you bathing daily.<br>"I was worried, I guess…" Lucien replied.

"I mean, I didn't want to have us leave you behind".

I untied from my belt the leather holster enclosing my standard issue Novice shortsword and chucked it on my bed; I wouldn't need it for a while. I took a seat on the brittle mattress, rumpling my little throw blanket. I heeded my little brother's words, silently for now, since seeing Phoenix and Lucien argue about Omok was an entertaining show.

"Those three and those two aren't even double-threes," Phoenix argued nonchalantly. "If I had put a Mushroom there, then it would've been…"  
>"Yeah okay, you still would've won cause of the other one there," Lucien barked back. He hated losing at Omok.<br>"Well you didn't call that one! And besides, you can't put down two Slimes just to block double-threes".  
>"Oh, whatever, I give up. You win," Lucien conceded. His eyebrow was arched a bit in annoyance. Phoenix smirked, albeit with his eyes downcast; he could talk his way out of anything.<br>"So, how easy was it Raff?" he asked, folding up the Omok board and dumping all the pieces on the mattress they were both sitting on.

I sat contemplatively with my chin resting on my fist, looking blankly at the cluttered pile of wooden Slimes and Mushrooms stacked between Lucien and Phoenix. Suddenly I'd realized that Phoenix had asked a question.

"It wasn't a problem. I think I only hit the Mushroom like, three times before it ran away. This other guy completely bruteforced it with his club though; I felt kinda bad for his Mushroom," I replied with a quick laugh, which Phoenix returned.  
>"Same here…" he replied, again with his characteristic dispassionate tone. "You go first, bro," he said to Lucien as he had finished separating the game pieces.<p>

"You're finally gonna be that Bowman, huh?" Phoenix said.  
>Lucien slapped his first Slime piece onto the board. "To be honest, I'm kind of excited about ditching this dusty cabin," he said. "Being a Magician should be fun".<p>

"Uh huh…" I said to no one in particular, my words trailing off. The exhilaration I'd felt just a few minutes ago had suddenly died down. "A Bowman," I threw out pensively in reply.

Time blinked by as more and more people found their way inside the lodge, with the same routine happening for each person who walked in: A momentary pause, a few glances towards the newcomer, and then back to normalcy. Soon enough, the setting sun colored the sky a lucid, cloudless orange, a sure sign that the day was ending.

Me, I'd made myself more comfortable over the course of time; I kicked my muddy brown boots off and let my feet dangle over the edge of my stuffy mattress as I reclined. My sword and medal were tucked safely underneath the bed's wooden frame for the time being. Phoenix and Lucien had since decided to doze off, but I didn't find it in me to sneak in any sleep of my own.

I'd been laying in a muse for some hours, after Lucien, Phoenix and I ran out of a worthwhile conversation. _A Bowman_, I kept thinking to myself; the words ran laps around my mind. Strangely, despite how pepped up I was about leaving this little island just a few hours ago, my heart almost sank at the thought of reaching something beyond the menial orphaned Novice that I was, at least until tomorrow.

My eyes grazed the lodge's raised wooden ceiling while I grew all the more pensive; the roof's timbers seemed to glow faintly with the traces of the setting sun that waved their way inside. I'd be leaving behind more than I had considered at first. Surely I was grateful for the old orphanage where I was raised—where I had first found a motive to become a Bowman. But it hit me most to think about my parents, who'd never been able to see me grow up. I had always wanted to make it out there for my parents, to have the future that they couldn't achieve; that was my drive that kept me dreaming throughout this three-year hellhole.

_I'm sure that's what they have wanted for me_, I reassured myself.

Night fell upon the camp swiftly; the idle chatter that filled the lodge earlier in the day gave way to a chorus of winding snores. The muffled stomping of feet and slamming of doors that came with a certain hour in the night meant that the rest of the camp—the junior Novices—were returning from their gauntlet; this was the only night we hadn't run a gauntlet with them. Their off-season started tomorrow, and then in a few months, they would be ready to be promoted.

A savory waft of roasting meat seeped through the rugged doors of the cabin as the moon continued to beam down on the camp—dinner was coming. One by one at first, and then in a disorderly wave the senior Novices in the lodge hopped to their feet and bounded towards the beach, where a spit roast was being prepared to celebrate the senior promotion.

"Smells like roast Ribbon Pig," said Phoenix groggily, still laying stiffly on the mattress next to mine as he snuck out a yawn. Lucien was already up, lacing his boots and seemingly eager to fight for his fair share of roasted pig shank.  
>"It's like what they used to give us at the Amherst orphanage on Sundays," Lucien added greedily, his stomach rumbling at the aroma. Indeed, it was better than the carriage-loads of turkey jerky that we were being force fed here year-round.<p>

The three of us made our way out of the cabin, leaving it empty once more. The path to the beach was unassuming, at least this late at night, but it was laced with the growing smell of roasting meat, seasoned with the distinct breeze that the salty ocean always carried. It wasn't very long until we spotted the brilliant orange of the campfire, coupled with forty-odd senior Novices waiting for their precious dinner to finish cooking.

"This is probably the only thing I'm gonna miss about this place," said Phoenix to the both of us, with a jab of mocking humor somewhere in there.

"Me too," I said in reply, again with the blank passiveness that I'd given off earlier in the afternoon. I heeded my brother's words back at the cabin once more as my two best friends strolled a bit ahead of me, but shook those words off for now. I might as well savor the last there was to be savored.

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><p><em>Author's Note<em>: This is probably the shortest full chapter I'll be writing in the story.


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